


i’m so busy thinking ‘bout kissing you

by bloodscout



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Awkward Katsuki Yuuri, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Art, Internal Monologue, M/M, Meaningful Glances, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Self-Esteem Issues, Viktuuri Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-03 06:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodscout/pseuds/bloodscout
Summary: "These past few months, it feels like all he does is watch Yuuri – watch him skate, watch him dance, watch him eat." // Yuuri and Viktor's budding relationship, told through four glances.





	1. serait-ce possible alors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fictionforlife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionforlife/gifts).



> this is a part of the yuri on ice big bang! i was a pinch hitter and i somehow ended up writing for the [fantastic art](http://ireallyshouldbedrawing.tumblr.com/post/163091069175) of [ireallyshouldbedrawing](http://ireallyshouldbedrawing.tumblr.com/), who drew 4 fabulous pieces that i am still head over heels for. this fic would not be half as good if it wasn’t for her amazing drawing skills.  
> also, thanks to my beta and cheerleader, my little sibling elliot. ([tumblr](https://welcome-to-helliot.tumblr.com/)/[ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prinxbradley)) without them as my sounding board i don’t think i would have finished.  
> fic title from a little lost by sufjan stevens, (will i ever stop titling fics with sufjan lyrics? who knows) chapter titles 1-4 from quelqu’un m’a dit by carla bruni, and chapter title 5 from a little lost again.  
> i'll be posting a new chapter ever 3 days until the work is fully uploaded!

Yuuri’s thighs are burning. Yuuri’s calves are burning. Yuuri’s arms are burning. He feels like he has just been crushed by a boulder. No matter how much he had tried to keep up skating during his sabbatical, he wasn’t ready for the whole-body assault that was Viktor’s training regime. And he hasn’t even touched the ice yet. He is slowly dropping his off-season pounds, but his feeling of accomplishment at the scales every morning is no consolation for the bone-deep ache that has set in after a week of high-intensity exercise. Ballet is rough on his muscles, Minako making him spin and jump and stretch until every fibre of his being is pulled taut. His nerves are frayed by the way Viktor cuts him down with a careless _Is that really all you’re going to do today?_ or a _You’re working up a sweat, little piggy!_. It hurts, to hear those words from someone he holds in such high esteem. Yuuri is already so self-critical, frequently to his own detriment, that Viktor’s reprimands feel like a confirmation. Viktor could be extremely blunt, spoke straight to his intentions, rather than dancing around the subject like Yuuri was wont to do. Yuuri feels like he is trying to hold his skin together while Viktor digs deeper and deeper, pulling out his insecurities and fears one by one. All he wants to do is slink off to his bed and sleep off the discomfort, but Viktor catches him creeping out of the dining room and blinds him with his 24-carat smile.

 

“Let’s go soak in the hot springs, Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri just wants to sleep, but he lets himself be dragged along to the hot springs. It _will_ be good for his sore muscles, and he finds it hard to deny Viktor’s enthusiastic request. For Yuuri, the hot springs were as much a part of his childhood as unfortunate haircuts and gap-toothed smiles, but he knows that it is still exciting for Viktor, still a novelty.

 

Viktor is still a novelty for Yuuri. Or at least, Viktor-the-coach is. Yuuri is intimately familiar with Viktor-the-skater, Viktor-the-celebrity, Viktor-the-untouchable, but this? Having Viktor at his rink, in his house, in his hot spring? This is all very new. It is almost overwhelming, being thrown into a life with Viktor in it. Yuuri’s heart still quickens every time he sees Viktor skate, still feels star-struck at every wink. It is unspeakably tiring, to have to hold yourself together, to constantly put your best foot forward. He can’t let any weakness slip out, or Viktor will decide that he’s had enough of him and book the first flight back to Russia.

Yuuri lets himself sink into the water, tension dissolving with the warmth. Viktor is only a few inches away, and even though they are covered by the modesty of the cloudy water, Yuuri averts his eyes. Every interaction is tinged by anxiety, an undercurrent of _Is this really real? Did he really choose me?_ It has been weeks, and he is still surprised to see Viktor every morning, has to face the reality of Viktor in his life anew each time he wakes up. Maybe Yuuri could accept it a bit easier if it made even the slightest bit of _sense_. He is Katsuki Yuuri, dime-a-dozen skater, and Viktor is, well, Viktor Nikiforov, five-time world champion. They are worlds apart. What does Viktor see in him? Why is he _here_? Viktor had medaled in every competition he participated in for years and showed no signs of stopping, and Yuuri can’t understand why he is here, at a family inn in Hasetsu, rather than preparing for the next season at his home rink in St Petersburg.

 

Yuuri turns to look at Viktor after he is sure his gaze isn’t returned, trying to glean some understanding from the other man’s face. He squints, his vision slightly blurred by his lack of glasses. Viktor’s head lies back against the rocks, eyes closed. Steam curls the ends of his hair, and the heat brings an attractive blush to his face. He doesn’t look like he does in interviews and posters, Yuuri notes. His face is relaxed, a small, gentle smile pulling at his lips. Sure, he looks beautiful here – radiant, even – but he does not look composed. He doesn’t look like he has spent hours practicing this soft smile, or the slow, blissful exhale. There are so many things that Yuuri didn’t expect to happen over these few weeks. He didn’t expect to share meals with Viktor, to see the way his face burst into a grin at the new cuisine. He didn’t expect to see Viktor be corrected on his turnout by Minako. He didn’t expect Viktor’s laughter, or his jokes, or the way he baby-talked to his dog. This is a new, entirely private side to Viktor, that he doesn’t know what to make of.

 

What he does know is that he wants to know this Viktor. He wants to know Viktor-the-coach, Viktor-the-man, and, maybe, Viktor-the-friend. Yuuri would like that very much. If Viktor is intent on knowing Yuuri inside and out, he wants the be offered the same courtesy. Yuuri feels something rise in his chest, bright and warm, as he thinks about everything there still is to learn about Viktor. He isn’t sure why, but he was the one Viktor had chosen, he was the one Viktor wanted to coach. Viktor gives off the impression that he is an airhead, but Yuuri knows by now that this is an act. When it comes to skating, Viktor is nothing if not decisive. Yuuri couldn’t believe that he would do something so drastic as deciding to coach someone without at least some forethought. He knows that Viktor saw something in him, something worth fostering.

 

Viktor sighs, and Yuuri is brought back to reality. Viktor is still lying in front of him, and hasn’t noticed Yuuri staring yet. His eyelashes flutter softly. Yuuri is captivated by Viktor’s face every time he sees it, so he doesn’t allow himself to look often. There is undeniable beauty to it, Viktor’s pale skin and ice blue eyes endlessly mesmerizing, but there is also something hidden every time Yuuri looks at Viktor. Viktor is holding something secret, and Yuuri doesn’t quite know what it is. Yuuri lets his gaze trace the flush on Viktor’s face, the way it warms the apples of his cheeks before spreading down his neck and over his chest. The flush fans out over smooth pectorals, damp with beads of sweat. It continues down Viktor’s chest, meeting with the cloudy water of the springs. _Does the flush go lower?_ Yuuri wonders.

 

Wait. No.

 

What?

 

Yuuri blinks furiously. Had he just thought that? He splutters aloud, shocked at the passage of his own thoughts. How could he think that about Viktor, his coach, a man he had only just met?

 

“I– I have to go!” He squeaks. “See you tomorrow, bye Viktor!” He rushes out, gathering his things before Viktor can protest, and runs to the safety of his room.


	2. j’entends encore le voix

After Yurio arrives and the Hot Springs On Ice competition is nearing, Viktor’s training shifts from back-breaking to ruthless. He runs Yuuri through drills and suicide runs as if the other man’s life depends on it. Viktor splits his time as evenly as he can between Yuuri and Yurio, but he still finds his focus drifting back to Yuuri. Today, they are trying to perfect the quad toe loop. Yuuri can land it on occasion, but never without wobbling and infrequently without touching down first.

 

“Come on, Yuuri!” Viktor calls across the ice. “It’s easy, look!” He skates forwards a bit, building up speed, before launching himself into the jump. He lands it cleanly, arms spreading out theatrically. He’d been landing quad toes for years now, and watching Yuuri fall time and time again, when he knows Yuuri _knows_ how to land the jump, is growing increasingly frustrating.

 

Yuuri huffs. “It’s not.” He grumbles.

 

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Not what?”

 

“Not easy.” Yuuri grits out.

                      

Viktor laughs carelessly. “Of course it is, Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri shakes his head, an angry red flush rising on his cheeks. “No. It’s easy for _you_ , but not for me.” His mouth is set in a frustrated line, shoulders hunched in a posture unbefitting a figure skater.

 

Viktor feels himself growing ever more irritated. “It should be, Yuuri. It should be easy.” He says, sighing. “Why don’t you trust yourself to do this?”

 

Yuuri looks up at him, eyes growing wide. “Why don’t I–?” He almost yells, incredulous.

 

“Go again.” Viktor instructs, in a tone that brooks no argument. Yuuri begins to skate a few loops around the rink to work his way into the jump.

 

Yuuri is a mystery to Viktor. There is so much he hides from Viktor, so many sides to him that Viktor doesn’t get to see. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that this was an entirely different man to the one who drunkenly danced with him at Sochi. Here, in Hasetsu, Yuuri is meek, reserved. He doesn’t let Viktor into his room, much less his inner consciousness. Yuuri often sneaks out of the inn for late night runs, to clear his head, and the night that Viktor had followed him had been immensely illuminating. The smallest insight into Yuuri’s psyche had captured him. Yuuri is well loved by this town, not just for his fame, but for something else. Something more intrinsic to who Yuuri is as a person. The town sees something in Yuuri that is worth protecting, nurturing. Viktor isn’t sure what to name it, exactly, but he’s certain that it was the same thing he saw in that video, the same thing that made him book a flight to Japan to become Yuuri’s coach. In these past few weeks, he has been struck by the dedication that Yuuri gives to skating. While they could sometimes be short with each other during practice, frayed nerves and tension sparking against one another, Yuuri remains unflappably determined to do his best. If Viktor had asked Yurio to practice a toe loop as many times as he has asked Yuuri to today, Viktor is sure he would have received a swift high-kick to the solar plexus. Viktor is yet to work out what drove this determination, though. Why did Yuuri continue to skate? What made him get up, fall after fall after fall? Viktor usually doesn’t care for the underlying motives of other skaters, but with Yuuri, it is all he can think of. He wants to peel back each layer of Yuuri’s defenses and insecurities, lay him bare, and see what kind of skater is underneath. He’d never wanted that from anyone else.

 

He knows some things about Yuuri already, though. He knows that Yuuri is a graceful skater, a passionate skater, and while there is not a conscious sensuality to his movements yet, there is a potential for it. He sees Yuuri both for the capable skater he currently is, and the phenomenal skater he could be. He also knows that, whenever he looks at Yuuri, he can’t drag himself away. Yuuri throws himself into the quad toe, touching down on the landing, but missing a complete fall.

 

“Good, Yuuri.” Viktor praises, sounding a little distant.

 

Yuuri hunches over, panting, sweat beading at his forehead and dripping down his nose. His breaths form white puffs in the cold air. It should be unattractive, Viktor knows. Here was Yuuri, worn down and sore, muscles pulled taut and body covered in a sheen of sweat, and Viktor found him… beautiful. That realization shocks him, somewhat. He had found people attractive, before, and hot, and sexy, and any adjective in between, but he had never looked at someone at their most vulnerable, sweating and panting and demoralized, and found them _beautiful_. Viktor feels his cheeks heat. He tries to reconcile this Yuuri with the Yuuri he met at the banquet, the exuberant and coquettish specimen that had exuded confidence and skill. Where is that Yuuri, now? Sometimes, when Yuuri is particularly caught up in the Eros routine, Viktor thinks he sees the confidence, the sensuality, but it is gone all too quickly when Yuuri allows himself to get distracted by his own thoughts. Viktor wants more than anything to see that Yuuri again, to see the honesty that is ever-present in Yuuri’s skating magnified into something breathtaking. It’s an honour to guide Yuuri to that point, to be able to see him grow. Even in these few short weeks, Viktor has seen Yuuri blossom into someone just a bit more powerful and sure of himself, but he finds that he always wants more. He wants to see more, wants to know more, yet he still doesn’t know how Yuuri feels about him. When Viktor tries to push, flirting in the way that comes the most naturally, Yuuri draws back, reticent to respond to his advances. It’s only recently that Yuuri has allowed them to be physically close without leaping away as if he was burned. Viktor finds himself at a loss of what to do next.

 

In front of him, Yuuri straightens, and Viktor has to pull himself out of his thoughts in order to focus. Yuuri skates a quick lap, and Viktor can’t help himself from wondering if he should be thinking these things, if he should be wanting anything from Yuuri at all, other than his success in competition. Yuuri begins to speed up, a look of determination on his face. Viktor is lost as a coach, desperately needing direction from Yuuri as to his role. He is beginning to realise what he wants, exactly how close he wishes to be to Yuuri, but he doesn’t know if any of that is appropriate. On the ice, Yuuri’s body draws taut, and then he leaps, and for the few moments that he’s in the air, Viktor’s heart stops beating. Then, his skates touch back onto the ice, and Yuuri whoops triumphantly at his first clean toe loop in days. All of a sudden, Yuuri is skating to the boards, and Viktor has to rub his hands over his cheeks to quell the blush that is probably still there.

 

“That was wonderful, Yuuri.” Viktor praises with a smile, only hesitating for a moment before gripping Yuuri’s shoulders.

 

Yuuri grins, and it lights his face up into something incredible, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead and all. Viktor feels winded. The smile on Yuuri’s face is blinding, and Yuuri reaches up to grab Viktor’s forearms.

 

“Thank you,” Yuuri pants. “For believing I could do that.”

 

Viktor believes Yuuri can do so much more than a toe loop, but he doesn’t say that. He just focuses on the warmth of Yuuri’s hands on his arms, the contrast between that and the cool air of the rink, and on how beautiful Yuuri looks when he’s proud of himself. He wants to see Yuuri smile like that a thousand times, and that’s exactly what a coach should be thinking. Right?


	3. le bonheur est à portée du main

Maybe the pressure is getting to him. Yeah, he’s just stressed, that’s it. The Hot Springs On Ice competition is tomorrow, and the outcome could decide the rest of his skating career. That’s why he’s been spacing out and staring at Viktor all night. He isn’t looking at anything specific, he tells himself, it’s just the Viktor is sitting in front of him, and his eyes are naturally drawn to him. Viktor is endlessly interesting to look at, with his silver hair and expressive face. Yuuri often finds himself catching glances at Viktor, no longer so reticent to look at the other man’s body. Viktor puts time into his appearance, if the hour he spends in front of the mirror every morning is anything to go by, so Yuuri can’t be blamed for noticing. That’s all he’s doing – noticing what Viktor wants people to notice, what he puts on display for the rest of the world.

 

Yuuri’s hardly spoken throughout the whole meal, which Viktor and Yurio don’t seem to have noticed, happy to share quips and jibes over bowls of rice and fish. Viktor is sharing a story about a prank he and Georgi played on Yakov when they were still in Juniors, and Yurio is laughing, but Yuuri isn’t paying attention to Yurio. His whole focus is on Viktor. He looks comfortable, here, talking to someone he knows well. Yuuri knows Viktor and Yurio have known each other for years, that they share the same coach and the same rink and the same city. Yuuri doesn’t think Viktor looks like this when he talks with Yuuri, all loose limbs and casual chuckles. Yurio makes a witty joke at Yakov’s expense as Viktor is lifting some rice to his mouth, and Viktor snorts, undignified. He certainly doesn’t _snort_ around Yuuri. There isn’t another word for it, really, other than comfortable, and Yuuri keeps repeating it in his head. Viktor is comfortable with Yurio. They know each other better than Yuuri and Viktor know each other, possibly better than Yuuri and Viktor will ever know each other, depending on the result of tomorrow’s competition.

 

But Viktor is also _comfortable_ in Hasetsu. He speaks in halting, too-formal Japanese with the locals and with Yuuri’s parents. He goes for evening walks with Makkachin and comes back with innumerous photos of things that caught his eye that he insists on showing Yuuri, even though Yuuri knows this town like it’s another part of his body. Viktor is enjoying his time here, even if Yuuri isn’t sure if he’s enjoying his time with Yuuri himself. Maybe it’s just a short break, his time here, some respite from the high-pressure life of being the world’s top male figure skater. Here, Viktor isn’t Viktor Nikiforov, five-time world champion. He’s Vicchan, Yuuri’s strange foreign visitor.

 

Viktor starts on another story about his first year in senior division, and Yuuri listens only because he knows the routine so well. It’s odd, hearing about the person that lay behind one of his favourite routines. There is so much he doesn’t know about Viktor, so much that he is yet to learn. There are big things, like how he felt after his dreadful fall in 2010, or why he cut his hair, or who his parents are and why he never talks about them, but there are smaller things, too. Yuuri doesn’t know Viktor’s favourite colour, doesn’t know how he takes his coffee, doesn’t know whether he sleeps on his back or his side. Yuuri knows he’s not entirely in the dark, though. There are things he _does_ know about Viktor, and he holds those things close to his heart, cherishes these little things he’s learnt about his idol like they were precious stones. He knows that Viktor likes sashimi but doesn’t like cooked tuna, he knows that Viktor will lose his shirt at any excuse, he knows that Viktor likes sake better than Japanese whiskey. He’s seen Viktor bleary-eyed in the inn’s green robes each morning, and he’s seen the difference between the smiles Viktor gives Yuuri’s mother and the ones he gives in interviews. He’s starting to think he’s seen the real Viktor, the one free of pretenses and masks. He doesn’t want to lose that, and if Yurio wins tomorrow, he could. Tonight might be the last night that he gets to eat with Viktor, that he gets to hear Viktor’s private little jokes. The thought feeds the dark twist of anxiety that has been twisting in his gut all week, and he grinds his teeth. His breaths come in shorter and shorter gasps. He can’t lose Viktor, can’t lose his only chance at redeeming himself and his skating career. And, more than that, he can’t lose what Viktor has come to mean to him. Viktor isn’t just his coach, means more to Yuuri than the narrow limits of his career. Viktor is someone Yuuri wants to talk with, someone Yuuri wants to laugh with, someone Yuuri wants to watch terrible telemovies with over a bottle of wine. Yuuri wants to share smiles and baths in the onsen and dinners at ramen houses. He wants to be as integral a part of Viktor’s life as Viktor is in his. Yuuri knows he has to impress Viktor tomorrow, has to show Viktor exactly how much these past weeks of coaching have meant to him. He doesn’t care about anyone else in the audience tomorrow, not even his own family. Tomorrow, he is going to skate just for Viktor. Yuuri doesn’t know if he can win, still feels the anxiety gripping at him, but he tries to focus on Viktor, and it calms him somewhat.

 

There are so many questions he wants to ask, things that have remained unanswered during their time together. He needs to learn as much about Viktor tonight, in case Viktor isn’t there tomorrow.

 

“And then Mila just shouts at the man, ‘Have you ever actually _fought_ a figure skater?’ and kicks him square in the balls!” Yurio finishes, and Viktor laughs uproariously.

 

“Viktor,” Yuuri interrupts, and both of them turn their attention to him. Yuuri clenches his fists, hiding them under the table. He takes a deep breath. “What’s your favourite colour?”

 

Viktor looks surprised at the question, and the confusion bleeds into his voice. “It’s pink, Yuuri. Why?”

 

Yuuri nods at that, and feels some tension slip away. Even if Viktor leaves, he will at least know this. “I just wanted to know.” He answers. “There’s a lot I still have to learn about you.”

 

Viktor grins, and Yuuri flushes red, and he wants exactly this, for as long as he can have it.


	4. il vous aime, c’est secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're almost finished!!!

Coaching is more difficult than Viktor expected, but not without its rewards. Among the difficulties is managing Yuuri’s anxiety, which often rears its ugly head and threatens to destroy all that they have worked for since Hot Springs On Ice. But the good things are so good that they warm Viktor right from his toes. Today, they have finished training early to give Yuuri’s body a rest, and to enjoy the glorious sunshine that is bathing the sleepy town of Hasetsu. They’re taking Makkachin for a walk, reveling in the cherry blossoms. The air is brisk around them, and Viktor has fallen a little behind his student and his dog. Most of the walk has passed in silence, with Yuuri only speaking to suggest a particular route or to quietly chat to other locals they pass. The silence is comfortable, now, things settling down after Yuuri has started to let Viktor back in. Viktor isn’t sure if he was the most tactful in asking Yuuri what he should be to him, but it has soothed things between them.

 

The thing is, it hurt to be shut out. It hurt when Yuuri wouldn’t talk with him, wouldn’t eat with him, wouldn’t bathe with him. Yuuri is a fixture in his life, now. He is used to seeing Yuuri putter around the inn in the mornings, and he is used to accompanying him to the rink or the gym or Minako’s studio in the afternoons. Yuuri fills up the spaces that were so empty before Viktor came to Japan. He has entwined his way – quietly, imperceptibly – into Viktor’s everyday. When that was torn away from him, albeit only for a few days, he found himself very lost. He was alone, his dog the only real company he could find, and he couldn’t help but think he had done something wrong. Sometimes he forgets how much he doesn’t understand about Yuuri, but over those few days, he was painfully aware of the fact, unable to find the right thing to say to make things normal again. It had been hell. He is so, so grateful that Yuuri had opened up to him, and that things were back to mostly-normal. He can watch Yuuri again, observing him and soaking up his quirks and mannerisms. These past few months, it feels like all he does is watch Yuuri – watch him skate, watch him dance, watch him eat. Yuuri is beginning to find those qualities Viktor had seen in him at the banquet. He has that honesty that Viktor had been so drawn to, skates like he is being laid bare, but he holds himself in a way that is unapologetic about that. Viktor feels so humbled to be able to see that transformation, and to be the person who is encouraging Yuuri through it. That feeling, the fragile warmth he feels every time Yuuri is proud of his own progress, is the best part about coaching, Viktor thinks. He didn’t expect to pin so many of his emotions on someone else, is unused to feeling selfless like he does around Yuuri, but it is a welcome change. Maybe Yakov was right, that the Viktor of six months ago could not coach anyone, but the Viktor of today might just manage it, if it’s Yuuri that he’s coaching.

 

Yuuri has slowed in front of him, and he veers off the path to sit on the grass. The ground is littered with cherry blossoms, and the smell of them is sweet in the air. Makkachin brings Yuuri a stick, and Yuuri dutifully throws it. The stick arcs through the air, with Makkachin bounding after it, tongue lolling out of her mouth. When Makkachin returns the stick, Yuuri laughs at her joyous expression, and hugs the poodle to his chest.

 

“Good girl, Makka! Good girl.” He coos, the smile audible in his voice. He baby-talks to her a bit in Japanese before throwing the stick again, and Makkachin races off with glee.

 

Yuuri always looks relaxed around Makkachin. He smiles more, he laughs more, he holds himself differently. Often Viktor will find Yuuri curled up with Makkachin in some corner of the inn, chatting idly to the dog as he brushes her curls. Viktor wonders if that’s something Yuuri did with his dog, before, and conjures up images of a younger, chubbier Yuuri brushing a toy poodle while talking about the new spins he has mastered, or the step sequence he is working on. It’s a nice thought. Viktor is glad that he gets to be privy to moments like that, is glad that he brought Makkachin into Yuuri’s life. He wants Yuuri to be able to relax, and he wants to be the person Yuuri can do it around. Yuuri was so tense for the first few weeks that Viktor was there, only releasing tension in the baths and in the privacy of his room. When Yuuri had shut him out, it felt like all the progress they had made on that front had disappeared, and Viktor spent every tense, clipped conversation kicking himself for whatever misstep caused it. Yuuri said to just be himself, to just be Viktor rather than playing a role, and Viktor hopes that that means Yuuri will just be Yuuri, free from the masks and screens that separate them. Has Viktor always wanted to know Yuuri that much? Sure, at the beginning he was curious about Yuuri, felt the need to learn about the other man like a physical thirst, but that has grown recently, has deepened into something more sincere.

 

Yuuri laughs again, bright and jubilant, because Makkachin is chasing her tail. The laugh is entirely unreserved, presents itself as exactly what it is, and this is what Viktor wants from Yuuri. He wants uninhibited happiness, whether it be from Makkachin or from a medal or from Viktor himself. He’s sure he’s never wanted anything like this from someone before, and has made his peace with the fact that this is probably not a strictly coach-like thing to want, but he has long ago stopped thinking of himself as purely Yuuri’s coach. They are so much more to each other, and, dare he think it, they could be even more to each other in the future. Viktor wants to stay in this moment, stay in this town, for as long as he can. For as long as Yuuri wants him. Something takes root in him at that thought – or maybe he notices something that has been there for a while, now – and Viktor thinks, with a mixture of nervousness and joy, that it feels a lot like love.


	5. i hope you need someone in your life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it! we've reached the end! thanks to everyone who was commented so far, and thanks again to ireallyshouldbedrawing for her fantastic art, and to my lovely sibling elliot for beta'ing! this fic was hard to write but i've come out the end very happy with it, and i hope this chapter ties everything up in a nice little bundle. as always, love these boys.

There are not very many thoughts going through Yuuri’s head when he changes the quadruple toe loop to a quadruple flip during the Cup of China. He doesn’t spend much time thinking about the mechanics of the jump, or about his score if he makes it. He doesn’t even really have time to be anxious about falling, for once. No, the thought that fills his whole mind is _I wonder what Viktor will think?_ He can almost hear Viktor’s shocked “wow!”, can almost see the way his hands would come up to cover his mouth. Viktor can’t possibly leave him after he sees this. Then, he lands, not as perfectly as he had envisaged, but with enough rotations, and he feels determination fill his body.

 

His every nerve is alight as he finishes the program. He, for once, is _proud_ of his routine, and he has a feeling that Viktor will be too. He turns to see Viktor, and for a moment his expression is impassible. _Have I fucked this up?_ Yuuri wonders. But then Viktor starts to run, frantic, and Yuuri is skating towards the exit, arms outstretched.

 

“Viktor! I did great, right?” He shouts, joyous.

 

Yuuri doesn’t even care about what his score is, about whether he made the podium or not. He skated today for Viktor and Viktor alone, poured his emotions into his movements, and he desperately wants Viktor’s approval. He skates, about to fold himself into Viktor’s arms, when Viktor is leaping onto the ice, holding Yuuri close to his chest. Viktor looks him in the eyes and for a moment it feels like they’re suspended in mid-air, time itself held still by the power of the look Viktor is giving him. Before Yuuri knows it, Viktor’s mouth is on his, and they’re kissing messily, without the time to properly align their faces. From his short range of experience, it is definitely Yuuri’s favourite kiss that he has ever received. His nose is smushed into Viktor’s cheekbone, and when they fall on the ice it knocks the breath out of him, but it’s perfect.

 

“This is the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you’ve surprised me.” Viktor whispers.

 

It feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Yuuri’s cheeks heat.

 

“Really?” He says, and it means more than just “Really, is this the best thing you could think of?” It means “Really, did this just happen?” and “Really, did you mean it?”

 

Viktor understands everything that Yuuri is saying with that single word, and he doesn’t respond vocally, but turns his face to nuzzle into Yuuri’s neck, and that’s answer enough.

 

When they stumble off the ice, almost fused together, the press is immediately overwhelming. Yuuri is shaky, a mixture of physical tiredness, the aftermath of the catharsis of the skate, and joyful nerves at having kissed Viktor, his actual, real-life idol _Viktor Nikiforov_. He had spent his skate thinking about the ridiculous mess that is his coach, focusing on the lost look that Viktor had given him when Yuuri had started to cry. He feels an unmistakable fondness for the other man, even when he was saying stupid things that made Yuuri unspeakably upset. He is ecstatic when he sees his score, which puts him in second place, and firmly on the podium, because it shuts up that little voice in the back of his head that said he wasn’t good enough for Viktor, that Viktor was disappointed in him. Viktor leads Yuuri through the press gauntlet with a hand on his hip. It is only that light pressure on his hip that keep Yuuri standing, exhaustion filling his every pore. He probably looks wretched in the press photos, bleary eyed and sagging onto Viktor’s shoulder, but he feels wonderful. Viktor is by his side, and speaking highly of his performance and his chances at Rostelecom. Viktor insists that Yuuri is going to win, and Yuuri is too tired to object, content to allow Viktor to field questions with a tact that he reserves for interviews and reporters.

 

When the press finally has had their fill, they go back to the hotel, walking mostly in silence. Viktor’s hand moves from Yuuri’s hip to rest comfortably around his shoulders.

 

“I’m impressed by you, Yuuri.” Viktor says as Yuuri is fiddling with the keycard to their room.

 

It doesn’t sound like Viktor is just talking about the free skate. No, it sounds like Viktor is talking about a lot more than that. Yuuri is too shy to think about what exactly Viktor _could_ mean, the other man’s praise always a little overwhelming, but even more so now that they have kissed.

 

Yuuri smiles, a little bashfully, and manages to open the door. “Thank you.” He responds, not meeting Viktor’s eyes.

 

Viktor moves to sit on the bed nearest the window and peers up at Yuuri from under his fringe. He looks… nervous? Tense? Yuuri isn’t sure.

 

“I’m going to change into pyjamas quickly, ok?” He announces.

 

He’d already taken a shower at the rink, so he feels clean, but he just wants to be in something more comfortable. Pyjamas will be familiar, grounding, and hopefully when he’s wearing them he will be able to effectively process the events of the past few hours. From the conversation in the carpark to the phenomenal skate to the kiss, his head is positively reeling. He walks over to Viktor, trailing his fingers over the other man’s knees, as he kneels to get to his bag with his clothes. Viktor is jiggling his knee slightly, but he stills under Yuuri’s touch. Yuuri shoots Viktor a small, tentative smile as he moves on to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He quickly strips out of his tracksuit and puts on the comfortable, well-worn sweats and grey t-shirt that he had brought with him. He feels warm and relaxed in the familiar clothing. In the privacy of the bathroom, he allows himself a few moments to breathe. _This is real_ , he tells himself. When he is splashing water on his face, he hears Viktor’s footsteps heading towards the bathroom.

 

“Yuuri?” Viktor calls through the door.

 

“Yeah?” Yuuri answers, reaching for the towel to dry his face.

 

“How are you feeling?” Viktor asks.

 

Yuuri pats the towel over his face. “Proud, I guess. Nervous, too.” _About you_ , he thinks. “About Rostelecom.” He amends.

 

Viktor hums, and there is a pause. For a moment, Yuuri thinks Viktor has walked away.

 

Viktor sounds vulnerable when he speaks next, and it makes Yuuri’s heart ache. “Who do you want me to be to you, now? After I kissed you, I mean.”

 

Yuuri rests his hand on the door handle, but doesn’t open it yet. He doesn’t need to think about this, really, but it feels the need to steel himself before saying anything to Viktor’s face. “I still want you to be just you, to be just Viktor. I want you to be honest with me.”

 

Viktor is silent. Yuuri takes a deep breath, and opens the door. Viktor is standing right in front of him, head bowed a little, and his eyelids fly open to see Yuuri. He gives a little smile, so unlike the broad grins Yuuri is used to seeing.

 

“But maybe,” Yuuri tries. “Maybe ‘Just Viktor’ is also my boyfriend?”

 

Viktor seems shocked, and he straightens up. “I can–” He reaches out, holding Yuuri’s hand where it rests on the doorframe. “I can do that.”

 

Yuuri isn’t exactly sure what he’s doing, but he cups the back of Viktor’s head with the hand that Viktor isn’t holding, and brings their lips together again. He knows now, that Viktor is going to stay with him, and they’re going to learn new things about each other, and it’s going to be sweet and awkward and sometimes difficult, and perfectly, painfully honest.


End file.
